


Not Your (Typical) Girlfriend

by deutschshepard



Category: Smosh
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, Ian-centric, M/M, Minor AU, Pining!Ian, Rom-com, Roommates, Sass, Secret Tease!Anthony, Shameless fanservice, Slow Burn, Teen Magazines, Unrequited Love, a little bit of pr0n, aka living together, i swear it's not though, lots of f-bombs, simmer, very VERY minor oc, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschshepard/pseuds/deutschshepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian's got a girly magazine. Which means Ian's got a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ye Who Enter Here

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for hardcore porn, leave now. If not, enjoy.  
> Also, please PLEASE let me know if I get any details wrong about them and/or their lives. I'm not a very avid fan.  
>  **SLIGHT AU: ******They don't have separate apartments, they're roommates. Not dating (yet).

This was so fucking stupid.

Ian had no clue why the hell he was doing this. It could end in Anthony hating him forever or himself suffering mortal embarrassment. Possibly both.

But most likely it would just be a waste of his time.

(But it might not be.)

(But _he had to know._ )

Ian knew he'd always been a bit more relaxed with his sexuality. And by relaxed he meant gay but so far in the closet he was lost in there. It seemed so fucking stupid, but he'd always been straight to _please everyone_ and Anthony seemed like a homophobe and it was fucking hard, alright? Plus, there were people that didn't come out till sixty so it wasn't like he was the worst.

Ian scrolled through the pages of the teen magazine like he was 15 discovering porn in his room.

_10 Ways To Get Your Guy_ , the girlish title boasted. _Foolproof ways to make him go crazy for you!_

It wasn't like he had any other fucking options. Life wasn't a movie. He couldn't just go up and be like, "Hey, Anthony, I know that we're platonic friends and you're apparently straight, but do you wanna go out with me?" And then lay one on him. Yeah. Sure.

He wouldn't even try this, normally. But lately Anthony had been looking at him kinda different and Ian had really started falling i—

Stopping there.                                                                 

The first one just proved that this was a bad idea.

1\. **Primp** **Up!** Get a new 'do, try out some new makeup, get something that makes you look and feel good! If you start taking care of your appearance, he'll start noticing!

He was not going to primp up. And if he tried makeup, Ian would have to kill himself on principle.

2\. **Get Your Hands On Him!** Touch him a lot. Arm, leg, shoulder, back--anywhere that won't make him run off. It'll get him used to you all over him!

Creepy. Did girls really listen to this crap? Actually, scratch that, they totally did.

3\. **Go Old School: Flirt!** There's nothing that sends a clearer message than good old-fashioned hair-twirling! Don't overdo it, but make sure he gets the hint.

Ian sat back in his chair. Huh. He had no idea how to flirt. Subtly, at least. But what if—

The front door slammed. Ian's heart stopped before his brain rebooted and he started clicking frantically. He barely managed to close the window before he heard Anthony step into the room.

Ian tried to look casual, but he knew his face was burning.

"Dude," said Anthony. "Really.”

"It wasn’t porn," coughed Ian.

"Sure, you pervert." Anthony playfully slapped him upside the head. "I got you some takeout."

"Thanks," Ian mumbled. "Gimme a minute."

"Gross!"

"Not like that! I just gotta, uh, check Twitter for, um," Ian gestured clumsily at the screen. "Okay."

"Okay." Anthony sidled out of the doorway, staring at him like he thought he might attack. "Come get it when you're done."

Ian nodded too many times. "Yep."

Anthony eyed him for a minute longer before rolling his eyes and leaving.

Ian buried his face in his hands.

That was so fucking stupid.

*   *   *

Ian bit his lip and tried to determine whether that shade of blue really _did_ bring out his eyes, or if the internet was a lying piece of shit.

It was just a t-shirt. He picked it up at the store for, like, seven bucks. Whatever. He tried not to think too much about it when he pulled it on.

To his dismay, Anthony didn't look twice at him when he walked into his kitchen for breakfast. Then again, Anthony's eyes were slightly crossed from not having had morning coffee, so Ian tried not to take it too personally.

"Morning," Anthony yawned. It came out drunk.

"Morning." Ian opened the fridge and scanned its contents. "No milk?"

"No cereal, either. Gotta stop by the market."

Ian hummed in agreement before closing the fridge. "You eaten yet?"

"Nah."

"Dunkin' Donuts? We've got time."

Anthony smiled. "Sounds awesome."

*   *   *

The whole way there, Anthony was mumbling half-asleep comments that seemed to be mostly directed at himself, the traffic, and Ian's mom.

"We should start doing 'Breakfast with Smosh' instead," Ian grinned as they pulled into the drive-thru. "They'll see what I have to put up with in the morning."

"Shaddup."

When Ian pulled up to the window, a blonde chick was smiling at him. Objectively, she was hot, and she was _smiling_ _at him._ He smiled back, a little flattered.

"And here's your drinks," she purred.

Well. She was obviously interested and it wasn't like he'd see her again. Might as well see what would happen. "Thanks, gorgeous."

She giggled. "See you around."

Ian gave her a nod-and-smile and drove off. Successful. At least he knew he wasn’t absolutely hopeless. He couldn't spring that kind of shit on Anthony, obviously, but maybe if he—

Anthony was staring at him.

"What?" Ian asked self-consciously.

"Nothing, jeez. You're flirty this morning."

Ian shifted uncomfortably. "So?"

"...I dunno. I'm just glad you're getting better with the ladies." Anthony's eyebrows wiggled suggestively. An elbow wedged its way into his ribs, and Ian squirmed away. "Got a date tonight?"

Anthony didn't look the least bit jealous. At all. Jesus Christ, he was going to be unrequited for the rest of his life.

Maybe he should try to let it go. Get over him. God knew it would be the safest (healthiest) option.

"We'll see," Ian smirked. Staring at the road, Anthony staring out the window, he didn't see Anthony's face fall the tiniest bit.


	2. The Good, the Bad, and the Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian's coming out of his cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, pretty good response so far! Thanks to the guys/gals who left kudos and commented :)

4. **Show Off Your Giggle!** Guys love it when you laugh at their jokes. It boosts their confidence, and it'll boost your status with them!

Well, that was bullshit. He couldn't bust out laughing at Anthony's dumbass jokes every time they were together. They ran a comedy show. Plus, it'd freak Anthony out and he'd probably get fired.

Ah, whatever. This thing wasn't gospel.

5.  **Three Words: Hard, To, and Get!** Nothing makes a man want you more than not knowing if you want him! Don't show _zero_ interest, but try waiting to text him back to spice things up and keep him on his toes!

Huh. Well, he was already nailing that one. Anthony had no clue that he was even gay, let alone interested.

Wait. Holy shit, wait. Maybe _that was a problem._

Ian clicked out, deleted the history just in case, and dropped his head into his hands for the second time.

He needed to think this over.

*    *    *

Ian looked down at his pathetic list.

—COMING OUT TO ANTHONY—

PROS:

-he will know im gay

-i wont have to hide it anymore

-maybe he will see me as available

CONS:

-he will know im gay

-he may be disgusted

-he may think im a pervert

-he may hit me with a bible

-he may move out

-he may quit smosh

-he may stop talking to me and leave me alone and never see me again and hate me and ill be really upset and cry like a pussy

Ian didn't want to have to cry like a pussy.

So the list said it was a bad idea. So Ian's brain said it was a bad idea. So it was definitely a bad idea.

*    *    *

"Anthony?" His fucking hands were fucking shaking. "Are you busy?"

"No," the voice called from the other room. "Why?"

"Can you come here for a sec? I gotta. Talk to you."

"Yup." There were footsteps approaching. Ian conjured up an image of a time bomb ticking down.

"Whatcha need?" Anthony said brightly, flopping down onto the loveseat near the couch Ian was clinging to for dear life. "Woah, are you okay? You look pale."

"Yeah, m'fine," Ian muttered. "Listen, uh." Fucking dive right in. "Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Are you, like, homophobic or something?" Yeah. Test the waters, real fucking smooth.

"No. I mean, I wouldn't suck a dick, but I'm not against gay people or whatever."

There. Anthony said it. He was straight. Ian might as well give up now. Game over.

"Why? You gay or something?"

Anthony was waiting for the "No, dude, gross!", the recoil, the automatic denial that was supposed to be instinctive.

When it didn't come, Anthony's teasing grin slowly slid away into a shocked gape.

"Dude," he whispered.

"Yeah," Ian exhaled, feeling like he was going to vomit. "I'm gay."

Boom. Guts everywhere.

The silence could've been nails on a chalkboard. Ian's ears were ringing from the force of it. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Anthony murmured, "Well, shit."

"Fuck," Ian breathed. "I just fucked everything up, Jesus, I knew I should've kept it to myself, I am so sorry—"

"Ian." Anthony's voice was firm, but he was definitely freaking out. "I'm...not upset."

Ian wanted to laugh, turn this into a joke, maybe run away, but he was rooted to the spot. "Huh?"

"I'm not upset. It's...okay."

"So you don't care? At all? Because if this was reversed, I'd be way freaked, and a little grossed out, and a little scared, and—"

"Okay. Fine. I'm all of that, yes. But you're still my best friend. Just...let me get used to it, okay?" Anthony pleaded.

Ian laughed a little too loud. "Dude, I'm not gonna start wearing bracelets and makeup and glitter. I'm not gonna change or anything now that you know."

"Okay. Good. You better not," Anthony warned, pointing a finger at him. "But...don't you like boobs? How can you not like boobs?"

"I mean, they're nice. I'm just not...attracted."

"Huh." Anthony was visibly processing this. "Well. As long as you don't perv on me in the shower."

"Psh. I'm way out of your league." Ian mustered a smile, and when Anthony returned it he felt like things might be okay.

*    *    *

Anthony was taking it well. He was just taking it very, very slowly.

"So, like, I just wanna make things clear. Just 'cause we live together, you don't think we're actually _dating_ , right?"

Ian gave him a flat look. "I am not an idiot, Anthony."

"Just checking."

It continued for weeks.

"So...are you, like...with anyone?"

"Nope." Ian turned a page in the car magazine he'd bought to prove he was still manly, and he hoped it was subliminal messaging or something.

"Do you want to be?"

"Are you hitting on me?" It was getting easier to make jokes like that, now that he knew he had no chance.

Anthony blushed, which was a first. "No! No. Just curious."

"Yeah, you sound pretty curious."

It was totally worth the punch.

*    *    *

Ian's phone rang.

"But you hit on girls!"

"I don't mean it. You hit on guys, too."

"Yeah, but I'm just screwing around! So all those times you told me you thought someone was hot?"

"The closet, Anthony."

"Shit."

*    *    *

"Do you get involved with the 'pride' stuff, like all the protests or the—"

Ian swiveled around in the computer chair to face his idiot friend. "Holy shit, Anthony. Listen. I have not left the house in days. You know I have not been involved in anything. Gay marriage is legal in all states and there is no reason for me to be doing that shit. Besides, you're the only one who knows I'm gay."

Anthony looked dumbfounded. "I'm the only one? What about your mom?"

"No."

"What? Are you serious?"

Ian shrugged. "She never approved of all that stuff. She's an old-fashioned lady."

"But she's your mom!"

"I just...never got around to telling her. It's not like I dated a guy in high school. There was no reason for her to know."

"That's kinda sad, Ian."

"Look at how hard it is for you to come to terms with it." Ian turned back to the computer. "Imagine her."

"It's not—"

"Leave it, Anthony."

Ian held his breath until Anthony left the room.

*    *    *

"When did you first know you were gay?"

Ian looked up from his phone, a little surprised. It had been about a month since he'd come out, and for a while the badgering had stopped. Anthony seemed subdued today, and was picking at his nails, not meeting Ian's eyes.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Middle school, maybe?"

"And you were never confused about it?"

"Of course I was." Anthony looked up, and Ian tried to suppress the wave of heat that brushed his stomach when their eyes met. "For my whole life, it had always been 'boys like girls' and 'moms and dads'. But I didn't like girls. I was the only guy left who still thought they had cooties."

"Did you really?"

"No. But anyway, I just kinda knew."

"Do you think it's like that for everyone?"

What, was Ian the gay encyclopedia? "I don't know. I'm sure there's people who figure it out when they're five and when they're fifty. Why?"

"Just wondering." There was a pause. Anthony looked uncomfortable. "Be honest with me, man. Did you ever have a crush on me?"

Motherfucker. He had to lie. It was the only option. "Hell no. You're not my type."

Anthony clutched dramatically at his heart. "How could you, Ian?"

Ian shrugged, grinning. "Sorry."

*    *    *

"Do you think bisexuality really exists?"

Ian thought about it. He had no idea why this was relevant, but if Anthony wanted his opinion? Whatever. "Sure. I mean, there's no reason why someone can't be attracted to both genders."

"But you don't think it's a myth, or...?"

"A myth? Nah. I just think it's overused as a term for people who are 'confused'," Ian threw in the air quotes, "in high school, and people who really are bi get undermined because of that. I thought I was bi until I realized tits did nothing for me. But I know there's people who are."

Anthony nodded and looked back down at his nails. Ian looked back down at his phone and tried to pretend that his stupid heart wasn't scrambling to make that question make sense.

*    *    *

"Last question, I swear."

"No it's not."

"Yes, it is. I'm trying to be serious. I just...why didn't you tell me before?" Anthony's voice was small, and to Ian's shock, kind of hurt. "Did you think I'd hate you?"

"No!" Yes. "Maybe. You come across as a little homophobic."

"Really?"

"Well, you always make gay jokes."

"So do you!"

"Yeah. Okay, I do. But you were always more," there was no way this wasn't gonna hurt Anthony's feelings, "mean about it."

"Jesus, really?"

"Yes."

"Fuck." Anthony sighed. "I guess I should be more careful what I say."

"Like that's ever gonna happen."

Anthony chuckled. "Yeah. But I'm really not against it. It's just new for me."

"I know."

It hadn't gone to shit. Anthony was still speaking to him, and even more shockingly, not disgusted. Hopefully. They were still friends, and that was more than Ian could've asked for.

When he went home that night, he thought he could do it. He could ignore his feelings, and nothing would happen between him and Anthony. Life would go on. Nothing would change.


	3. Tap Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian can't handle much more of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight change—I figured it'd work better if this story was AU and they didn't have separate apartments.

He couldn't do it.

He knew there were people who lived for decades without making a move, taking a chance on someone. It was ridiculous, but people did it all the time.

He was weak as hell.

6\. **Flatter Him!** Compliment his shirt, his shoes, even his smile! Another confidence boost will make him want you around!

No way. He probably couldn't use this advice even if he wanted to. Now that Anthony knew what side of the fence he was on, he was bound to take everything in a flirtatious way for a while. Even if he would be right to do so.

7\. **Show Off!** Strut your stuff, do something with him that you're good at. It'll impress him and make you more interesting. He'll want to know you better!

8\. **Be There For Him!** You can't spell "boyfriend" without "friend." If it means pushing your feelings aside when he needs you, do it!

He'd been Anthony's friend before he even knew he was gay. That shit didn't work.

9\. **Just Go For It!** Chances are, if you like him, he probably likes you, too! Get some courage and ask him out! If he says no, you can still be friends.

Ian closed the window and closed his eyes.

This was hopeless. Anthony was a hundred percent macho-straight. He drooled over boobs and wanted nothing to do with guys. He was obviously still freaking out about the gay thing. Ian was plain lucky that he hadn't just packed up and left. He didn't want to ruin their already strained friendship.

He'd just leave it be.

*    *    *

By pure coincidence, Ian was wearing the blue shirt on the morning of the incident.

He was in the kitchen again, sipping coffee against the counter and waiting for his toast when Anthony walked in. Half-asleep. Hair tousled.

Mostly naked.

It took enormous restraint not to stare. Especially at the black boxers that didn't leave much to think about. Anthony had a great body, and it wasn’t just self-consciousness Ian was feeling.

Not even daring a look, Ian said, “Anthony, aren't you forgetting something?”

“What?” Anthony asked, reaching over Ian to get to the coffee. Ian pointedly stared into his mug.

“Your clothes,” he managed.

“It's 7:30.”

“So?” Ian said desperately.

“So you're the only freak in the whole state who gets dressed right after you wake up.” Anthony stirred milk into his coffee. “This isn't unusual.”

“Yeah, but you're not worried that I'm gonna perv on you or something?”

“Why?” Anthony sipped gingerly at it. Ian was valiantly keeping his eyes above nose level. Like on the ceiling. “You already said you weren't attracted to me. You being gay doesn't change anything.”

It was the first time he'd said it, Ian could give him that. “Thanks, Anthony,” he mumbled.

Anthony smiled at him. He was still close to Ian, so close Ian could smell toothpaste, and it looked exactly like he was about to kiss him good morning.

Ian had been diagnosed as a masochist long ago.

“But seriously, put some pants on, we have a scene to shoot in half an hour.”

“Oh, crap, right.” Anthony started back for his room.

Ian exhaled shakily and took a long sip of coffee, willing his dick back into submission.

A few minutes later, Anthony slunk back in, fully clothed. “Sorry if I made you feel awkward.” He seemed a lot less nonchalant about the whole thing now.

Ian waved him off. “Nah, you didn't. I'm just glad you're not treating me different. I appreciate it. It means a lot.”

Anthony smiled again. Ian had to drain his coffee entirely.

*    *    *

Anthony really didn't treat him any differently. This was not a good thing.

Instead of backing off from the casual touches and flippant flirtatious comments, Anthony didn't even try to stop. In fact, if Ian wasn't so sure that he was imagining it, he would've said Anthony was doing it _more_. But he wasn't. It was just unexpected.

And worst off all, Anthony had stopped the overdramatic homophobe act. There was nothing to balance it out. Obviously, Anthony wasn't flat out coming onto him, but it was a close second.

All throughout the scene, he kept making stupid jokes and innuendos that weren’t anything new and made the crew laugh and groan, but Ian couldn’t help but try to find some lines he should be reading between. And for the whole day, his heart pounded even harder every time Anthony got too near, and his mind was on a loop of _What is he thinking? What is he doing?_

Finally, there was one scene Ian wasn’t in, so he got to sit back and have some time for himself.

What if Anthony was just fucking with him? What if he figured out that Ian was stupidly, pitifully in l...really liked him, and was trying to make him look like an idiot?

No. No, no way. Anthony was vicious, but he wasn’t _that_ vicious.

_was he?_

What if Anthony was bi-curious? What if he _did_ want to start something with Ian, but he realized he wasn’t gay and couldn’t stand to be around Ian anymore and stopped talking to him altogether and it ruined Ian’s life?

Ian looked up at the sky. What would life be like if he didn’t feel the need to torment himself?

This was all bullshit, anyway. No matter how emo Anthony's hair had been, he just Wasn't Gay.

Ian tried to shut out his brain and just focus on the scene in front of him, with the crew grinning and Anthony acting like an idiot. He should do it all day. He should stop worrying and live in the moment.

Anthony, in place of a normal shout, chose to make a noise that sounded like he just came in his pants.

Therapy was looking like a good option.  
  
*    *    *  
  
Watching porn in public must involve less guilt and shame than this.

_How to Know If He Likes You!_

Ian was a veteran now, so he managed to just skim through. Nothing matched up. There was no flirtatious eye contact, no thigh-touching. Then again, Anthony wasn't a preteen girl. He was a fully grown man, and there was no goddamn reason why Ian was looking at these websites.

Ian shut the entire computer off before he left the room.

Fuck this. Fuck everything. He was quitting this shit. He did not need to be romantically involved with his best friend to be perfectly happy with his life. He could find a normal boyfriend, get in a normal relationship. One that didn't threaten his friendships and his job. One that he could be comfortable with.

And then Anthony walked in and smiled at him and Ian knew he was gone for good.


	4. Sick of Your Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is not enough chicken soup in the world for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe light porn/smut/etc. at the end. Not really. There's no physical interaction. But I'll put a warning, just to be safe.  
> (Thanks for the love, guys!)

He had the worst goddamn immune system on the planet.

Ian groaned wretchedly into his pillow. His throat ached, his nose was stuffed, his eyes burned, his head hurt, his stomach was churning, and worst of all, he was delaying their video.

“Here,” said Anthony. A bowl was placed next to his bed. “And no, you can’t help that you’re sick. There’s no way you’re filming anything in this condition.”

Ian protested weakly, but he wasn’t sure that it came out as English.

Anthony patted his hair with what seemed like pity. Ian knew he wasn’t sorry at all. “Get better soon."

“Aaaaggghhhhhhhhh.”

“Uh-huh.” Anthony left the room. “Shout if you need me!”

Ian flipped him off long after he was gone.

Well. He’d wanted thinking time. He’d got it. Except it felt like his brain was shoved behind a brick wall and everything was all sluggish and slow. Nothing made sense. He knew Jigglypuff wasn’t _actually_ dancing on his pillow.

He drifted between unconsciousness and whatever his sad excuse for consciousness was. He was finally falling into a deeper sleep when his phone buzzed beside him.

Ian glared at it with pure hatred.

His hand flopped onto it and, with heroic effort, he squinted at the screen.

_Anthony: U still alive?_

_Ian: No_

_Anthony: Finally got rid of u lol_

_Ian: Shut up I’m dying_

_Anthony: Good won’t have to deal with u_

_Ian: Stop putting u_

_Anthony: It’s trendy dumbass_

_Ian: Yeah for 5 year olds_

_Ian: Why are you texting me you’re a wall away_

_Anthony: Why not?_

_Anthony: It’s lonely out here_

_Anthony: In the cold_

_Anthony: Alone_

_Ian: Whatever just shut up_

Ian was grinning when he fell asleep.

_god I love him_.

*   *   *

Ian woke up. His hand had fallen in the chicken soup that was now ice cold. Thank fuck his phone was still on the bed and not drowning in that sludge.

It was probably around six or seven, judging by the harsh light coming through the window. It was incredibly weird to wake up in the middle of the day. He always felt jarred when he took naps. On the plus side, he didn’t feel like he was going to vomit everywhere. He still felt like crap, but with effort he might be able to do some filming tomorrow. For today, he’d just lie in bed.

His stomach gave a mighty roar.

Or not.

Ian dragged himself out of bed and nearly crumpled to the floor. The edge of his foot slopped into the soup. Wonderful. He wiped it on the floor and trudged to the living room.

Anthony looked up from his game. “Oh, wow. I didn’t think your hair could get any worse.”

“Cute, Anthony,” Ian muttered, his voice gravelly from sleep and sickness. “Do we have Nyquil?”

“Probably not. I can pick some up?”

Ian’s irritation subsided slightly. “Please.”

The only thing he really wanted to eat was an enchilada, but he settled for ice cream. He scooped a big bowl of it and went to go fester on the couch.

He kept his distance from Anthony, as having half of Smosh sick was preferable to all of it. The sluggish, outlandish part of Ian’s tired brain wanted to curl up and steal Anthony’s body heat. Obviously that wasn’t an option.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

Anthony saved the game and closed it, setting the controller down. “I’ll go get your drugs.”

“Yup.”

Anthony frowned. Then he leaned over and rested the back of his hand on Ian’s forehead. It was blissfully cool. “Yeah, you’ve got a fever.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Not today.” Anthony stood up and went to wash his hands, as was his wont when someone was sick around him. “Just don’t move. You know what, don’t even breathe. I’ll be back soon. Don’t die or something.”

After he’d heard the car leave the driveway, Ian looked down sadly into his empty bowl.

*   *   *

Despite everything else, everything stupid he did and how he was sometimes an asshole, Anthony was always a good friend when you needed him.

Ian was sitting up in bed, feeling marginally better after he’d been drugged up, and Anthony had even made fresh chicken noodle for him. He’d picked more up at the store. Ian was genuinely touched.

Ian took the bowl and started slurping away. It hurt his throat to eat, but his stomach was glad for the food.

“How you feelin’ now?” Anthony asked from the edge of his bed.

“Loads better.”

“Enough to film tomorrow?”

“Thought you didn’t want me to push myself.”

“There’s that, and then there’s you being a lazy ass.”

Ian kicked at him half-heartedly. “Jerk.”

Anthony grinned. “You love it.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

They sat in silence for a while. Eventually, Anthony stood up, stretching and yawning. “It’s late, man. Bedtime.”

“We’re adults. We don’t have curfews.”

“I do. I still have stuff to do tomorrow.”

“Fine. Goodnight.”

Anthony smiled, ruffling Ian’s hair as he walked out. He hadn’t done that in years. “Goodnight, Ian.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Anthony,” Ian called, but he didn’t mean it at all. Anthony knew it, too.

Ian snuggled under his covers and closed his eyes.

It was nice to be made soup sometimes.

*   *   *

“I caaaan’t.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Like, 100 percent ‘I’m dying’ sure?”

“I feel worse than yesterday.” Except the sore throat, but his head was pounding and his stomach was roiling. “Everything’s freezing.”

Anthony felt his forehead again. “Jesus Christ. What’s the temperature where you start to get worried? 104? ‘Cause you feel like an oven.”

“Just postpone the damn video. I’m hallucinating.”

Anthony paused. “Are you serious?”

“There are Nintendo characters in a conga line behind you.”

“Okay, I’ll postpone it. We probably need some time off, anyway.”

“We?” Ian said groggily. “Who said you could stop working?”

Anthony huffed. “Such a bitch, Ian.”

“Blow me.” Ian kind of wished he could take that back. “Not really, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Ian rolled over. “You know what? Fuck this shit. I’m getting out of bed.” He threw back (blearily peeled off) the sheets and stood up. Instantly, his head seared and his vision spotted with black, and he was swaying. He was about to fall over when something bony dug into his ribs and stomach.

“Ian, you fucking idiot, just stay in bed,” Anthony was saying as he gingerly let Ian back down onto the mattress. His face was impossibly close and Ian could smell (what he could through his stuffed nose) his deodorant and shampoo. If Ian had been just a little more delirious, he might’ve turned his head just a bit and tried to kiss him. Sadly, he was too preoccupied with not passing out.

“Anthony, get off, I’ll get you sick.”

“I don’t care. Don’t kill yourself over a fever.”

“Shut up,” Ian mumbled, but he was already feeling tired again. Being sick was _the worst._ “Get me some ice cream, bitch.”

*   *   *

Ian had to piss. It was dark, and when he checked his phone it was 8:30. He got up and managed to stay up this time, only feeling faintly nauseous.

He padded across the carpeted floor, trying not to make his headache worse. As he approached, he heard the shower running. Fantastic. Naked Anthony. Ian was about to open the door when he heard the softest, tiniest moan come from the other side.

His hand froze on the doorknob.

Ian should leave. He should sprint back to his room and hide under the covers and pretend it was all a dream.

Another groan came. The guilt wasn’t strong enough to make him leave, and Ian pressed the side of his face into the door. He couldn’t hear much over the shower, but Anthony wasn’t exactly being quiet.

This was so wrong. This was _so wrong_.

Ian was breathing shallowly, and a punch of arousal went through his gut every time there was even the most miniscule groan. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until his lungs started to hurt. He exhaled as quietly as possible, and as if in response, there was the loudest noise yet. Holy shit, Anthony just came.

Ian was already half-hard. He dared not make a sound as Anthony came down from his orgasm. The shower didn’t stop running.

“Fuck,” came the muted curse. “Fucking shit. Christ.” There was a thud and a grunt, as if he’d just punched the wall.

After a few moments in which he valiantly willed his erection away, Ian crept backwards and then walked back to the bathroom door, making his footsteps as loud as possible. “Anthony?” he said loudly, knocking. There was another soft swear from inside and a brief scuffle.

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” he called back. The water shut off.

Ian bit his lip until the door opened and steam rolled out. Anthony had a thin towel around his waist, clutched in one hand. His cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t meeting Ian’s eyes. “All yours.”

Ian’s arm brushed Anthony’s as he sidled past him. “Thanks.”

“Yup.”

Ian decided a shower of his own might be in order.


	5. Montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many things go right. Many things go wrong. Ian can't tell which is which.  
> (Alternatively: Couples fight. So do Ian and Anthony.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little rushed and unedited, but I didn't want to make you guys wait too long as I am on a short trip for a while. The story still progresses. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

There was no other way to describe it: Anthony was acting weird.

It started small. He’d sit too close on the sofa, but ignore Ian for hours on end. It wasn’t malicious, but an _avoidance_. Sometimes Ian would catch him staring several times in a row, and the next day Anthony wouldn’t even look at him. If asked if he was doing okay, Anthony would shrug it off, hackles raised and armor on.

Ian didn’t know what he was doing wrong.

Mostly, Ian just wanted to be angry. Anthony said— _said_ —that he was okay with Ian’s sexuality. But it was like Ian was a nasty plague with ugly boils that either fascinated Anthony or drove him away in disgust.

And then Ian just wanted to be sad and finish the new tub of mint chocolate chip.

He’d been fully recuperated from the cold and back in business for a little under a week. Ever since the shower that Ian had tried to forget, these patterns had kept on showing up. If Anthony wasn’t going to do something about it, he was gonna have to.

It was a free day for them, and Anthony was back to playing his game on the couch. Ian figured this was the best time to approach him. He took a deep, steadying breath before walking into the living room.

“I know this is about the gay thing,” he said, standing in front Anthony and blocking the TV, arms crossed.

Anthony’s eyes got huge. “What?”

Ian sighed impatiently. “Look, you don’t have to pretend it’s not. I know, you know, we both know you’re not comfortable with it. But I’m just gonna have to keep asking you to accept it, and if you don’t, well. You’re my best friend, but it can’t stay that way if you can’t understand it’s just part of me.”

Anthony didn’t respond for a second. But when he did, it was stilted and rushed. “No, no, you don’t get it, it’s not you—“

“Goddamn it, Anthony, stop trying to lie to me!”

“I’m really not!” Anthony exploded, standing up so they were face-to-face. He looked genuinely upset. “I don’t care who you date! I don’t care who you fuck! I wouldn’t give two shits if you started getting with guys left and right!”

“I can fucking tell when you’re lying!”

“I’m _not!_ I swear to God, Ian, I don’t care that you’re gay!”

“Then why are you acting like you’re so pissed at me? What did I do?”

“Nothing!” Anthony sat back down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing at all. I’m not pissed at you.”

“Who are you pissed at?”

He gave a wry chuckle. “The world.”

Ian bit his tongue on the “ _wow, now you’re emo, too?”_. “You’re really not mad at me? Or disgusted?”

“No, I’m not.” Their eyes locked. Anthony looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how. Ian wasn’t going to push it.

Anthony broke into a nervous smile. “We’re good?”

Ian grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re good.”

*   *   *

Anthony stared _a lot_.

Minor things. Not even just at Ian. Signs, cars, clothing, anything bright and shiny that could catch his attention. Most of the time he’d snap out of it, but sometimes it was a near-trance and Ian would have to wave his hand over his eyes. But a lot of it _was_ at Ian.

One morning, right when Ian was finally feeling comfortable enough to forgo a t-shirt to bed, he’d walked down to the kitchen. Anthony had knocked over a cup of orange juice because he hadn’t been looking at what his hands were doing. Ian had self-consciously started wearing shirts again; his growing pudge must have been too distractingly gross.

It wasn’t even that much pudge. He still looked good.

Another time, they’d gone to the ice cream shop near their HQ since it was about a hundred degrees, and Anthony had dropped the whole thing on the sidewalk because he wasn’t paying attention.

Ian hoped it wasn’t a medical condition. That would be a serious problem. But he wasn’t going to confront him—there had been enough of that lately, and hopefully it would go away on its own.

Amazingly, Anthony must have gotten bored of it after about two weeks and saved them a trip to the ER. But when the staring stopped, the exhibitionism started.

Anthony stopped wearing shirts in the morning, period. Anthony walked around in a towel for hours after a shower. It was almost unbearable.

He was testing him. Ian hadn’t convinced him that he wasn’t interested. So, Anthony was looking for an excuse to freak out on him and justify the fact that he was _still_ creeped about Ian’s sexuality.

It was not going to work on Ian.

*   *   *

Ian cursed the Almighty Assholes that had given Anthony the power to work this one into the script.

“Shit, sorry,” Anthony said sheepishly as he fucked up his lines for the third time. They had to regroup, and now Ian was almost used to the feeling of a shirtless Anthony grabbing his bare waist from behind.

Ian’s dick was staying down through pure force of will. Luckily he wasn’t thirteen anymore and it didn’t rise and fall with the breeze, but this was pushing it.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL HER THAT I WAS A…Jesus Christ!” Anthony swore.

“Are you fucking serious?” Ian said, a little pissed. Not only was this awkward and sexually frustrating, it was also time-consuming and annoying.

“I got it this time, seriously.” They resumed their positions. Anthony was naturally a warm person, and his skin was so close that Ian’s back might as well have been pressed to a furnace. His hands were soft yet firm on his waist. Ian’s mouth was dry thinking about how much bare skin was exposed behind him, smooth and tanned and—

Anthony spun him around so close that their noses bumped together.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL HER THAT I WAS INTO POKÉMON?” Anthony shouted into his face, spit flying onto Ian. If there was ever a boner-killer, it was that. Ian stammered back, and the shot continued. They only had, oh, five more shirtless scenes together.

No big deal.

*   *   *

The one day Anthony was acting normal, and Ian had to fuck it all up.

Ian was giving up hope. It just wasn’t going to happen: Anthony wasn’t into him like that. Otherwise he would’ve noticed by now.

So he was giving a shot at a real boyfriend.

There was this one guy who Mari had recommended. Yesterday he’d broken and had finally confided in her about his sexuality, although leaving out the whole “likes Anthony” part. He trusted her a lot, and knew she was probably more understanding than the hardcore-heteros of the rest of the Smosh games crew. He didn’t want to talk to anyone on set, as that would just make things awkward.

According to her, he was a tall, handsome blond with a great personality. Sounded too good to be true, really. She’d also promised he was great at keeping things quiet until Ian was ready to come out. By that point he was sure he was fictional, but she’d called him up and asked him if he was still single. He was.

So it had escalated. She’d asked if he wanted to date, if he’d like to meet someone, and it had ended with a time at a pizza place that very night.

Any guy who wanted to date with pizza was good enough for Ian.

They had been texting a few hours beforehand to make things less awkward. It was a blind date, but Ian didn’t want to know _nothing_ about him. Turned out he did have a good personality, and while he was a little rough around the edges he had a sense of humor. He’d sworn to secrecy, so Ian was feeling pretty confident that it was going to turn out well until he mentioned it to Anthony.

“Who’re you texting?” his roommate asked as he walked into the living room, thankfully fully clothed and toweling his wet hair.

Ian shrugged, grinning. “Date for tonight.”

Anthony lowered the towel, looking stunned. “What?”

“Mari set us up. His name’s Travis, and he’s a really good guy. I’m leaving at seven. That cool with you?”

“Wait, Mari set you up? When did Mari find out you were gay?”

“I told her.”

“I thought I was the only one who knew.”

“I told her yesterday,” Ian admitted.

“So…she set you up with this guy _yesterday_?”

“This morning, actually.”

“And you’re already going on a date?” Anthony’s voice got more high-pitched when he was in disbelief. He was hitting different octaves at the moment.

“I’m not making a huge commitment. We’re both single and it just happened to work out. I’ve been texting him for a while, it’s not like he’s a complete stranger.”

“Do you even know what he looks like?”

“Yeah, he sent me a picture.”

“That could be bullshit.”

“I trust Mari.”

“I don’t,” Anthony glowered. He had moved progressively around the entire room and was now back standing in the doorway. “Does he know what you look like?”

“Yeah, he’s seen a few of our videos. He’s not a devoted fan, though, so it won’t be that awkward.”

“Oh, shit. Are you really ready to come out on our channel?” Anthony looked pale. “You’re not afraid to jeopardize anything?”

“Chill out, man. He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Anthony, you’re not my mom. I’m a grown man, I’ll date who I want.”

“Not if it’s gonna throw Smosh into shit!”

It was six o’clock. Rather than stay in the house and fight with Anthony, he could get there a little early. It was twenty minutes away, anyway, and who knew what that meant in California traffic.

“I gotta go, actually. Don’t wanna be late,” Ian snapped, grabbing his sweatshirt off of the side of the couch. It was pizza; he wasn’t getting a tux. And yes, he was wearing the blue shirt, goddamn it.

“Fucking fine. Hope you have a great time.”

“I will. I’ll have the fucking gayest time of my life, Anthony, thanks for asking.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Anthony glared at him up until Ian had slammed the door behind him.

Guilt pooled in Ian's stomach as he walked out to his car. He just hoped this guy was great enough to take his mind off of it.


	6. The Gayest Time Ever: First Date Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian preferred blondes, anyway.  
> Also, Ian starts to use his eyeballs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back from my trip (oh man it was long!) and I'm writing full-force. Fear me.  
> Thanks to the lovely people who commented/kudos-ed!  
> (PS: This chapter's extra cheesy. Just as a warning.)

Travis was actually pretty great.

Even though Ian had gotten there early, it had only taken him a few minutes to show up. He was tall, taller than both him and Anthony, blond, and attractive. More than Ian was expecting.

Ian waved him over a bit awkwardly.

Travis sat down across from him in the booth. “Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” said Ian.

“So, have you been here before?” Travis asked.

“Nope. I hear it’s good food, though.”

“It is,” Travis agreed. “Let’s go get some, yeah?”

“Okay.”

They ordered and sat back down for the fifteen minute wait. Travis crossed his arms on the table and gave Ian a smile. He really was attractive—straight nose and pale blue eyes. Not extremely muscular, but not out of shape. Almost as pasty as Ian. Looked absolutely nothing like Anthony.

“So, Ian. Tell me about yourself.”

Ian laughed. “I didn’t tell you everything over text?”

“Not all of it, I’m sure.”

“Alright, well, I work professionally for YouTube. With Smosh, as you know.”

“So it’s your full-time job? That’s impressive. Must be awesome doing something you love.”

“It is, mostly. Sometimes it can get stressful, but it’s pretty great.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’m in graphic design, and it’s alright.”

“Graphic design? That takes talent.”

“Stop, I’m blushing.” Travis grinned at him. Ian knew this was going to be a good night.

*   *   *

“No!”

“Mm-hm.”

Travis sat back in the booth. “You’re insane.”

“Thanks?”

“I kind of like it.” Travis scooped up his pizza and took another bite. Ian followed suit. He’d definitely be ordering from this place again. “You never told anyone, either?”

“Nope.”

Travis shook his head in disbelief. “Crazy.”

There was a comfortable moment of silence. Travis was smiling at him over his pizza. Ian’s heart was light and airy and he was stress-free for the first time in days. At least until his phone buzzed.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Ian apologized, but Travis waved him off.

“Happens to the best of us.”

Ian glanced at the screen and his good mood trickled away.

_Done with your date yet?_

Ian texted back. _No._

Just a few seconds later, there was another buzz. _Having the gayest time ever?_

_You bet._

“Sorry, really.” Ian turned off his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

Travis gave him a sympathetic look. “Fight?”

“That obvious, huh?”

“No. Well, a little, but I’m good with that stuff.”

“It’s not a big deal. Just something stupid.”

*   *   *

“I can walk to my car alone, you know.”

Travis rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun. I’m a traditional guy.”

“Sure.” Ian stopped at the driver’s side. “Well, I had a really great time, Travis. I mean it.”

“I did, too. You’re a fantastic date.” Travis stepped in a little closer. “Would it be too much if I kissed you?”

Ian swallowed. “No.”

Travis smiled and leaned in, kissing Ian lightly on the mouth. Without much thought, Ian kissed him back, putting a hand on his shoulder and completely forgetting that this was his first real date kiss with another man. He’d had a few weird ones after high school, but they hadn’t been like this. Maybe he’d finally get over Anthony and things would get back to normal. Why the hell was Anthony so pissed over him dating, anyway? It wasn’t like it had anything to do with him. If he was really bothered by Ian dating guys, maybe they’d have to stop working together. And living together, especially.

Travis broke the kiss and leaned back, smiling a little sadly. “I knew it.”

Ian blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re just not interested in me.” Travis moved back. “That’s fine. I really did enjoy this, though. Thanks for giving it a shot.”

Ian’s brain came back online. “What? No, I’m interested.”

Travis chuckled. “It’s fine, really.”

Ian could protest all he liked, but it wouldn’t change Travis’s resolve. He was stubborn. Ian smiled regretfully. “I’m really sorry, Travis. I can’t help it. But I do want to have another date with you.”

Travis shook his head. “If you’re interested in someone else, you shouldn’t try to avoid it. If you get over him—or her, whoever—call me. But I don’t want to be a replacement. See you, Ian.”

Ian, feeling more bold than he ever had, leaned forward and kissed Travis again, just for the hell of it. “Bye.”

Travis was grinning when he walked away.

*   *   *

Ian braced himself as he closed the front door behind him.

Anthony was nowhere to be seen. The living room was devoid of life—it was so quiet Ian could almost hear his heart beating. It was too unsettling. Warily, Ian made his way back to his room.

Nothing happened. Ian fell into a fretful sleep, dreading the morning fight that was sure to come.

It didn’t.

Anthony wasn’t even there when he got up to make coffee. He didn’t appear as Ian was finishing his toast, and he was nowhere in sight when Ian finally got dressed and left for the grocery store. When he came back, Anthony wasn’t raring to kill; he was sitting peacefully at the table, and didn’t say a word when Ian walked in. Ian put the food away, watching Anthony like he was about to attack, but Anthony just watched him back, silent.

Ian was still hungry and needed an excuse. He grabbed an apple and sat across the table from his roommate.

Anthony was focused on his phone, but his shoulders were tense. Ian had never noticed tension in someone before. Maybe he should take a leaf out of Travis’s book and start paying more attention to things.

Anthony was obviously trying to seem detached, unaffected. Ian looked more closely at the set of his mouth and eyebrows and deduced that he really was upset.

“Why can’t I go on a date?” Ian asked.

Anthony shut his phone and ran a hand over his face and through his messy hair. “I never said that.”

“It was implied.” Ian bit into the apple. The ensuing crunch was unbearably loud.

“It’s not the dating, it’s whether or not you want to come out on our channel to all of our twelve-year-old fans.”

Ian looked again. “You’re lying.”

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

“You just are.”

Anthony hunched in further on himself. “Fine. It does bother me. But the channel’s definitely the biggest part of it.”

“And what’s the smaller part?” Crunch.

“Look, Ian…”

“I just don’t know how many times I’m going to have to tell you before you get it—I’m not ‘going back’ to being straight. It’s not going to happen. So if it’s freaking you out so much that you have to get involved in my private life, then I don’t think we should be friends.”

Anthony looked taken aback. “I keep having to tell _you_! It doesn’t bother me!”

“Then what’s your problem?”

“I don’t know. It was just sudden, alright? Give a guy some warning.”

“So you want me to give you a schedule of all my dates?”

“Yeah, absolutely, Ian.” Anthony smirked at him. At least he was making an effort. “That’d be amazing, thanks.”

Ian broke and smiled. “Fine. Apology accepted.”

“I didn’t apologize.”

Ian stood to throw out what remained of his apple. “It was implied.”

*   *   *

Torn up ground was easier to plant things in. New things.

Ian was taking care to be more observant. He’d been so focused on himself and his own feelings that he hadn’t really looked at Anthony. He’d only seen what affected him, not the whole picture.

After he started doing this, he began to see their relationship take on a whole new light. Anthony seemed easier to understand, less complex, and after a while was more open with him. The house didn’t feel as tense anymore.

Ian didn’t feel like he needed to call Travis. He was content where he was. Anthony _finally_ seemed to have adjusted. They were back to the jokes and the banter and the stupid best friend stuff. They were more in sync than they’d ever been, and everything seemed to be working.

Right now, Ian was happy.


	7. Feet First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian can't possibly keep his hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Anthony's making damn sure of that.  
> (AKA: Anthony starts doing advice number two.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Bam, here's the chapter. Enjoy like a sweet triple deluxe chocolate cake monster supreme. Oh yeah.

And then it was all complicated again. And that made Ian unhappy.

Ian was hyper-aware of every time Anthony’s hands were on him. It was a _lot_.

Somehow they had graduated from close, platonic proximity to nonexistent proximity. In some way, Anthony always seemed to be in contact with a part of him. Hair, arm, ribs, (just not his dick) it didn’t matter. Ian had been especially careful to keep his hands to himself so as not to weird out his friend, but Anthony was touchy enough for the both of them. The casual brushes had increased tenfold.

(Exhibit A: While they were watching a movie on the couch on Saturday night, Anthony’s hand was nearly on his upper thigh. Ian didn’t remember what the movie was about.)

Ian tried to pretend he didn’t notice it, but he was giving up quickly. If Anthony was going to be like that, there was no reason that he shouldn’t act the same way. So, Ian did something he would never have done otherwise.

He touched back.

They were filming an episode of Lunchtime with Smosh, sitting across the table from each other. Anthony was eating a homemade sandwich, Ian was eating takeout, and both of them were acting stupid.

“Anthony, I believe it’s time for something,” Ian said around a mouthful of noodles, flipping the camera back around.

While Anthony was singing the stupid song, Ian shifted his weight ever so slightly and his foot innocuously slid across the floor, his leg settling comfortably against Anthony’s. It wasn’t particularly weird, but they weren’t _that_ kind of friends. Anthony didn’t appear to be affected by it, his expression unchanged, but he didn’t move away, either. Ian could’ve sworn he felt the tiniest pressure back against his own leg. Through the rest of the video, they stayed until Ian got up to throw his trash away.

The empty space was cold.

Later that day, he decided to mimic Anthony’s recent tactile adventures. He let his hand linger, let his fingers slide over the nape of his neck when it should’ve been a cursory pat on the back. Anthony had tensed up at that one. Ian figured it was creeping him out a little, but just hoped that Anthony could make the connection and stop touching Ian so much.

The crew was giving them odd looks, anyway.

*   *   *

It was getting out of hand. They were more touchy-feely with each other than they’d ever been. At first Ian had been doing it to make a point, but now he couldn’t get away from Anthony. Or vice versa. Playful slaps, nudges, gentle ribcage-elbows, and every day their legs would find each other under the table. Ian had been careful. Apparently not enough—it was an unconscious reaction now.

Anthony seemed to back off when they were doing serious work, especially in the presence of others, but at home he didn’t hold back at all. It was borderline molestation.

Maybe not _that_ bad, but still.

Ian wanted to talk to him about it, but he’d seem like he was overanalyzing everything. Maybe it was a phase. Maybe it would pass.

*   *   *

2\. **Get Your Hands On Him!** Touch him a lot. Arm, leg, shoulder, back--anywhere that won't make him run off. It'll get him used to you all over him!

Holy fucking shit.

That shit was happening.

Was Anthony goddamn _flirting_ with him?

Ian turned slowly in the computer chair. There had to be a mistake. He had gotten exactly what he wanted. He’d come out of the closet, and now he was an option. Anthony was taking the option. _Anthony was into him._

No. No, there was no way just one little factor would prove that Anthony was attracted to him. What about that other stuff? The “get sexy” crap? The flirting stuff? It was just one out of ten. Definitely not proof.

For a second there, he’d almost thought…

But that was bullshit.

Ian glanced at the page. Out of the blue, he remembered he’d never gotten to number ten. Might as well.

10\. **Be Yourself!** Don’t ever try to change who you really are! If he doesn’t like you as yourself, then he’s missing out! Always be you!

Ian laughed dryly—fucking cute—and closed the page.

He needed to get a handle on himself.

*   *   *

“Aw, shit. That sucks serious ass, man. And not the good kind.” Travis sipped at his milkshake.

“I know. Again, I’m really sorry for dumping all of this on you. I just really needed to talk.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m glad I could hear it. Anyway, you’re _positive_ he’s straight? ‘Cause lemme tell you, there’s about a billion people out there who—“

Ian shook his head. “Yes, he’s straight. He loves tits. He was engaged to a girl. There’s zero chance for us getting together, which is why it’s so _stupid_. Why can’t my stupid brain just get the memo?”

Travis nodded sagely and stole Ian’s fries. “I get you. And, I know you’re thinking it, I’m not going to tell anyone. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Hope so.”

“Ye of little faith.” Travis crumpled up his hamburger wrapper and threw it in the trashcan behind his seat. “Anything else on your mind?”

“Nah. You’re free to go.” Travis grinned and took his last fry.

“As soon as I get my head straight, I’ll call you, okay?” Ian promised.

“Hey, alright. If I don’t hear from you, though, I’ll get it.” Travis winked and stood, patting Ian’s shoulder. “Nice seeing you.”

Ian smiled. “Same here.”

What a seriously good guy. What a _reasonable option_ for a boyfriend. Honestly, Ian’s heart needed counseling.

*   *   *

“Another date?” Anthony had his back to him, stirring something on the stove when Ian walked in.

“Not really. We just talked a little. It was kind of a mutual thing that it’s not gonna work out.”

“So you’re not seeing him?”

Ian was glad Anthony was casual about it. “Not anytime soon.”

“Shame.” Anthony turned off the stove and brandished the pot at Ian. “Spaghetti?”

“Just ate. Looks good, though.”

Anthony hummed in agreement. Ian rummaged through the fridge for a drink, looking for orange juice and not an excuse to sit with Anthony.

Anthony eyed the glass. “It’s six. PM.”

“Man’s gotta have his oj.”

“You’re the biggest dork in existence.”

“You love it.”

Anthony smiled into his spaghetti. “Dork,” he repeated softly, hooking his ankle around Ian’s, warm and comforting and _there_.

Ian’s heart stuttered and he almost choked on his stupid juice in his haste to not look smitten.

Anthony ate like nothing was wrong. Ian was trying to figure out how to stop loving this stupid man.


	8. Resilient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why Ian can't have nice things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I must have rewritten this a dozen times. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Ian blinked in the morning light, struggling to remember why Anthony was sprawled across his chest and snoring.

Last night had been a late one. Coming up with constant ideas for videos was harder than most people realized. They had a whole team behind them now, but they were still the masterminds.

They were behind schedule with the video concepts as it was, and they’d been brainstorming for _hours_. But that idea was as incredibly stupid as the last thousand, no matter how Ian looked at it. “No, that’s dumb,” Ian yawned.

“Well, fuck, our whole channel is dumb,” Anthony yawned back. “It’s awesome.”

“True. Maybe keep it?”

Anthony squinted at the notepad. Even after all these years, he still preferred it to a computer when it came to ideas. “It is pretty stupid.”

“Yeah, forget it.”

Anthony rolled onto his stomach, nearly squishing Ian’s feet in the process. If his shirt rode up anymore, they might as well start playing strip music. “So we should stick with the first world problems?”

“It’s too late to start being original.” Ian shrugged. “Literally, Anthony, it’s two in the morning.”

“We gotta do this, Ian.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“Not really.”

“Fuck, fine, just keep that one, then. I’m going to bed.”

A vicious slap assaulted his leg. “No you’re not, we’re not done.”

“Asshole.”

Anthony flipped him off without any real malice.

Ian guessed that they’d somehow fallen asleep while talking. Anthony had been all the way at the foot of his bed, however, which didn’t explain why said Anthony was cuddl…laying on him.

The thing was, he was hoping Anthony was asleep so he wouldn’t have to explain why he wasn’t pushing him off.

Over the next few minutes, Ian viciously willed his morning wood away while praying a constant mantra of _Don’t Wake Up_. Once danger was no longer imminent, he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling. True to his masochism, his mind wandered.

So this was what it would be like to wake up with Anthony. Honestly, it was hard to breathe because damn he was heavy, but other than that…Ian could live with this. Really live with it. A lot.

Ian let his free hand inch its way onto Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony snuffled a bit, arm constricting that much more around Ian’s waist, but didn’t wake up. Ian breathed again. He resumed his ceiling-watching and let Anthony’s even breathing lull him into a stupor.

Goddamn it. He was supposed to be getting over Anthony, not snuggling him in bed. He should really get up. He should shove Anthony off and tease him about it and pretend it was no big deal. That’s what a best friend would do.

Ian was beginning to feel like a shitty best friend.

He was abusing Anthony, that’s what he was doing. Anthony had no idea that Ian was perving on him. Ian tried to imagine how he’d feel if he found out that Mari had been harboring feelings for him the whole time and he’d been misleading her. It didn’t feel good.

Guilt was settling in Ian’s stomach. It was all in Ian’s head, all this flirting, and he felt vaguely dirty for it. Anthony just wasn’t thinking about it romantically, since he wasn’t pitching for Ian’s team.

Hold on, though. There was still a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that was saying Anthony _was_ hitting on him, no matter what logic and reason said. The weird touching stuff…and he’d been so _close_ lately. And right now he was laying on Ian’s chest, arms around him, and his subconscious only seemed to want to get closer. Ian could at least accept that he wasn’t disgusted by it.

He should—

Ian’s phone rang.

In an utter panic, Ian lunged for the nightstand with the arm not wedged under Anthony and denied the call, praying that that hadn’t disturbed the beast. Anthony hummed and muttered something in his sleep, shifting until his face was completely pressed into Ian’s chest. Ian was frantic. Anthony was waking up in tiny, tiny increments, and any minute now he’d—

Anthony raised his head and looked Ian straight in the eyes.

Out of sheer terror, Ian raised his hands, palms out in an “I surrender” gesture. “I have no fucking idea.”

Anthony hauled ass backward faster than Ian had ever seen him move. He flailed around before tumbling to the floor with an unmanly squeak.

Ian looked over the side of the bed at the crumpled heap.

“Not talking about it?”

Anthony let his shoulders slump. “Not talking about it.”

*   *   *

Ian was pretending he wasn’t watching Anthony over his cereal that morning, and he was fairly certain Anthony was doing the same.

*   *   *

This was the last straw.

Ian stared in blank shock after Anthony as he walked into the other room, easy as you please, not even justifying his actions. Ian’s ass was stinging from the force of that smack. Why the _hell_ would Anthony slap his ass with a towel like it was an everyday thing? There was joking around, and then there was flirting so blatant even Ian couldn’t deny it.

“No homo?” Ian called desperately.

“No homo,” came the reply, but it was homo. It was definitely homo.

Ian knew he’d been right. There was no way Anthony would do that for no reason. All the touches, all the signs, it all led to one conclusion.

Anthony _was_ hitting on him.

If Ian didn’t stop this now, Anthony might end up doing something even more drastic. Possibly in public. Something had to be done.

And so it would be. In about an hour, after he’d steeled himself with copious amounts of ice cream. Ice cream was always the answer.

*   *   *

Jesus, he was actually doing this.

Ian paced across the carpet. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, “Anthony, get in here!”

Anthony poked his head around the doorframe, looking concerned. “What’s up? You okay?”

Ian ignored this. “I have to talk to you.”

“Yeah? About what?” Anthony approached him, hands in his pockets. “Is it serious?”

“Kind of, yeah. I’m…staging an intervention.”

Anthony looked unimpressed.

“I’m serious.”

“Uh-huh.” Anthony took a step back. “Guess you found all the crack pipes under my mattress. Darn. Can I go now?”

Ian ignored this as well. “Listen. I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to be honest with me. I will _know_ if you lie.”

Anthony crossed his arms, leaning against the living room doorframe. “Oh, really?”

“…Just don’t lie, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Ian took a deep breath and asked the damning question. “Anthony, have you been flirting with me?”

The blood drained from Anthony’s face.

“No!”

Ian waited.

Anthony bit his lip and let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. Don’t hate me?”

And then it hit Ian exactly what this was about.

All the pieces fit. Ian _finally_ understood why Anthony had been acting the way he had. He knew what was going on, and it hurt more than if Anthony had moved out on the spot when he came out of the closet.

He stepped in close. Anthony’s eyes widened and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbling. Ian cupped Anthony’s cheek and tilted his head down until they were less than an inch apart. When Anthony exhaled, Ian could feel it on his lips. Anthony closed his eyes.

Ian smiled cynically, tapping Anthony’s cheek and stepping back. “You’re not gay, Anthony.”

Anthony opened his eyes, startled. “What?”

Ian sat down on the couch. “I don’t think you’re gay.”

“Why?” Anthony said weakly.

“You’re curious. I know, it’s not your fault. It happens. Now there’s this whole other area of life that you’ve probably never thought about, and I’m the perfect guy to fuck around with.”

Anthony looked frustrated. “Ian, that’s not it.”

“That’s exactly it. Look, if you want to mess around, that’s fine. But don’t do it with me. You’re a better friend than that.” If they started, Ian wasn’t sure he could stop.

“I don’t want to mess around! I’m really attracted to you, Ian!”

“I know you think you are, but you’re not. If you _were_ attracted to me, you would have been before, regardless of what gender you thought I was into. This only started when I told you.” It all made perfect sense, even if it hurt like a bitch. Ian got up from the couch and grabbed his keys from the table. “So let’s just both pretend this never happened, okay? I’ll be back in a while.”

“Ian, don’t fucking leave, you’re not listening—“

“Don’t call me unless you’re done with this.” Ian walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

He got into his car, drove it all the way to an empty parking lot, and sat there. He swore, hitting the steering wheel and rubbing a hand over his face.

If he had been just a little more selfish, he and Anthony…

But he made the right choice. Anthony was being a stupid dick who didn’t know what he wanted. Once this all calmed down, Anthony would realize how ridiculous the notion of being attracted to him had been, and they could forget about it. Ian was halfway over him, anyway.

Thank God he hadn’t let that happen. Ultimately, it would have ruined their friendship. Yeah, it was better that he had resisted.

Ian let his forehead hit the steering wheel.

He could’ve kissed Anthony.

He was so fucking stupid.


	9. You Just Screwed Us Over, Dude. Way to Go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian needs to hide in his room for a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets heated? Ish? No porn, though. Also, there's a lot of f-bombs, so beware.  
> Thanks to all the lads/lasses who left kudos/commented :)

Ian sat in his car for a long, long time.

He only started the engine when the sun was creeping under the horizon. Reaching home, Ian pulled into the garage. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked in. Maybe Anthony would have realized how dumb that whole idea was. Maybe Anthony would persist. Maybe Ian would find an empty house.

He had a resolve now. He wasn’t going to let this spiral into something uncontrollable. Ian was done trying to pursue Anthony, no matter what his feelings were. They were running the second biggest channel on YouTube, they were working together full-time, and their subscribers were mostly prepubescent boys. They couldn’t afford to fuck around.

It was stupid to think he had a chance in the first place. Not only was Anthony hetero (or bi-curious, apparently), he was also the worst choice for a boyfriend. When he’d first looked at that idiotic teen magazine, he hadn’t been thinking about them or their jobs. He’d only been thinking about himself, and he’d been so naïve. Getting with Anthony would be suicide.

Ian locked his car and walked into the house. Most of the lights were off, and Ian could barely see anything making his way to his room.

He wasn’t going to flirt with Anthony. He wasn’t going to daydream about him. He wasn’t even going to think about him. At all. Ever.

He was done.

Out of the darkness, a hand took fistful of his shirt, slammed him against the wall, and a mouth crashed into his. Anthony’s hands, on him, everywhere, desperate; his lips, hot, smooth, wanton, Ian kissed back and felt his own hands reaching up—

He shoved Anthony off.

“Don’t fucking assault me!” he shouted, wiping Anthony’s spit off of his mouth.

Anthony utterly ignored him, pressing him further into the wall and kissing his neck. “I want you, Ian,” he murmured, mouthing at Ian’s collarbone. “I know what I want. Just let me.” Another kiss, a direct line straight to Ian’s cock. “We can keep it secret, if you want. I need you, Ian.” Anthony’s hand brushed the skin under his shirt and crept just slightly downward.

“Anthony, get the fuck off!” Ian struggled to push him away. After a moment, Anthony seemed to get that he wasn’t kidding and backed up. “Stop trying to seduce me! I don’t want you like that, okay? I’m not attracted to you!”

Anthony froze. Ian was breathing heavily, pissed off and turned on. If Anthony honestly thought that this was the way to get Ian to fuck him, he was dead wrong. Ian wasn’t going to be an experiment.

It wasn’t happening, even if he had to lie his whole way through.

“…Really?” Anthony asked, voice tiny.

“I’m going to bed. Stay in your own goddamn room.”

Anthony didn’t move from that spot, even as Ian closed the door to his room.

What even was his life. Seriously.

Ian stripped down to his boxers, hit the light switch, and climbed under the sheets. Only then did Anthony’s faint footsteps trail away. In the safety of the dark, Ian touched his neck and wiped away traces of Anthony’s saliva.

He punched his pillow and refused to jerk off.

*   *   *

First thing in the morning and this was what he woke up to.

“Ian, I’m so fucking sorry,” Anthony pleaded.

Ian looked at his feet. “I’m sure you are.”

“Shit, Ian, can you forgive me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. That was some serious shit you pulled.” Ian looked up and met his gaze evenly. “You’re still my best friend, but I don’t really want to talk to you right now.”

“Okay.” Anthony nodded, eager-to-please, like a puppy begging for treats. “Okay. That’s fine. I can…I don’t know, I’ll go stay with my mom. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“You don’t have to leave the house. Just…give me a little space.”

“Of course. Yeah, I will.”

Ian mustered a smile. “I’m not that mad, man. I get where you’re coming from. I mean, I _am_ extremely hot.”

Anthony flushed. “Shut up, dickwad.”

*   *   *

Ian’s resolve had barely been in effect a day. It was already crumbling.

He couldn’t stop replaying that frantic kiss over and over, a record skipping on one line in the song. It was all he could do not to storm into Anthony’s room and continue where they’d left off. But he had to resist. He _had to_.

Why?

They’d screw over Smosh if this got out.

What if it didn’t get out?

It was bound to eventually.

What made him so sure?

Why was he arguing with himself?

Ian didn’t know. But he also didn’t know if having one night with Anthony was worth jeopardizing all they had worked for. He knew what his dick thought, but if he always listened to his dick, he would’ve made a lot of terrible, _terrible_ decisions.

And he didn’t want just one night. He wanted Anthony. Emotionally. Girly as that sounded, it would be awful to have to face him afterward. Especially if Anthony hadn’t liked it. Or had been grossed out by Ian.

Yeah, his ego didn’t need that thought.

Plus, whatever Anthony said, Ian was going to wait until Anthony was absolutely sure he was genuinely into him before he even considered the idea. If that meant that Anthony experiment with other people, then so be it.

Ian was absolutely not jealous of that notion.

*   *   *

Why yes, it _was_ awkward working with Anthony the next day, thank you for asking.

Neither of them could manage any friendly banter, and even shooting the scenes felt forced and stiff—no pun intended. Ian could tell that Anthony felt just as uncomfortable as he did. Likely more; Ian had lied about not being attracted to him, so Anthony probably thought that he had molested him. Which he had, but still.

Since neither he nor Anthony were joking around that day, though, they finished an hour early. Everyone seemed slightly impressed.

Ian escaped as soon as he could. His stupid broken record had been on volume ten. Every time Anthony opened his mouth or got too close, he had a flashback to the hallway. It was a sickness.

Anthony was still giving him space, thank God, but that was hardly enough. Now that he had backed off, Ian was more conscious of the times they were together. Usually at dinner, sometimes at breakfast, and once in a while in the bathroom, brushing teeth and brushing elbows. Of course, they ran Smosh, so they still saw each other all the time, but it was different at work. Less intimate. Less IanandAnthony and more Ian. Anthony. Period.

And when it was IanandAnthony, Anthony wasn’t his boisterous self. He was subdued, eyes on his own plate, poking the mashed potatoes around and around and around and around until Ian was about to lose his mind. He wasn’t chipper. He wasn’t energetic.

There was only one way to put it: Anthony had lost his sparkle.

The fucking website had turned him Teenage Girl.

Ian was _this_ close to confessing that he’d maybe lied a little, just to stop Anthony believing that he was a bad friend and creepy molester. But that would open up a whole room of doors that Ian wasn’t ready for. Especially if Anthony wanted one night. Ian wasn’t one night.

But how the _hell_ was he going to know if Anthony’s feelings were physical or emotional?

This, Ian did not have an answer for.

*   *   *

Living room. Uneasy silence. Ian was trying to find a way to leave when Anthony spoke up.

“I feel so horrible,” he admitted. “I’m such an idiot. I should’ve realized that you…you weren’t…”

Ian didn’t help him out. Anthony had to get through this one on his own.

“…that you didn’t like me that way,” he finished eventually. “I guess I just…I feel so _stupid_.”

Dammit. It was so pitiable. “Anthony, don’t.”

“No, I have to apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed. I didn’t stop to think about you, and I’m really, really sorry, Ian.”

“Anthony, really, it’s okay. Stop beating yourself up. I’m over it.”

Anthony bit his lip. "Would you believe me if I said I was confused?"

That was that, then.

"Yeah, I would. Really, Anthony, it's okay. I understand." Ian reached over and squeezed Anthony’s shoulder, just-friends, nothing to see here. That was how it was going to be, and that was how it would stay. Forever. And ever. And Ian was going to die alone. “Can we go back to normal, please? I’m dying of awkwardness.”

Anthony laughed, a real laugh that Ian hadn’t heard for a while. “Yes, please.”

Ian sat back and smiled in a way he hoped looked natural. “Good.”

Fuck his life. Seriously.


	10. Guts Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter we've all been waiting for, I hope. Enjoy, my friends ;)

Something was wrong with Anthony.

“Ian, can you hand me that?” Anthony held his hand out without once looking away from the computer. Ian complied and gave him the stack of papers. Anthony took it. Anthony continued working. Anthony had barely noticed Ian in days.

Later that week: “Anthony, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing. You just seem…off.”

Anthony shrugged. “Okay.” He returned to his phone.

That was it? “Okay”? That was all he got?

“You sure nothing’s bugging you, man?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing at all?”

“I said I was fine.” Tap, tap, tap on his phone. Ian didn’t know who he was texting and that was weird.

“’Cause if you wanna talk, it’s fine—”

“I’m all set.”

Ian bit back a snarky comment at the infuriatingly neutral reply.

Next breakfast, Ian sneaked his foot around to Anthony’s. Anthony moved right the hell away. Ian felt betrayed.

In all seriousness, it did kind of hurt.

Ian lay on his bed, thinking harder than he usually did. This whole fiasco had his brain working overtime.

Was Anthony trying to recover the non-romantically charged friendship he and Ian had previously had?

Yeah, probably.

Ian figured he was pulling away. Distancing himself. That’s what it felt like, anyway; it was as if someone had stolen his body and tried to pretend to be him. Particularly if that person disliked Ian to begin with. Thinking about it made his head hurt, though, so he turned over and tried to focus on something else.

Like Anthony pawing at him in a dark, dark hallway, one constant stream of motion, mouth on his and hands going lower—

Ian buried his face in his pillow and groaned.

God, they were never going back to normal.

*   *   *

Ian tried to help out by pretending everything was okay. He played the macho-butch best friend, hetero as possible every second he was around Anthony. He didn’t go so far as to hit on girls, but he definitely kept his thoughts to himself. He let himself go back into character, the Ian Hecox of months ago, straighter than raw spaghetti.

Kind of crappy, if you asked him.

But, little by little, they fell to a standstill. No more touching. No more shirtless mornings. No more footsies under the table. It wasn’t normal, but it was probably the closest they were going to get.

At work, people were giving him concerned looks every now and then. He’d smile back, brightly as ever, and they would move along. Ian tried to focus as much as he could on filming and other things, so he didn’t have time to think about anything else, anything involving Anthony.

After about a week, the initial loss dulled to an ache that he only noticed once in a while. Life progressed. The world hadn’t ended just because Ian hadn’t gotten what he wanted. It had been a ridiculous wish, anyway.

Anthony seemed unaffected by the whole thing, acting normally to everyone but Ian. Sometimes he got this faraway look in his eyes that made Ian think the staring problem had returned, but he snapped out of it the instant Ian made his presence known. He wasn't really shutting Ian out, per se, he just wasn't letting him in.

The one thing Ian really missed was that they didn’t _talk_ anymore.

He’d have to mangle along every conversation that didn’t involve work. Anthony was always on his phone. Ian hated it, but he let it happen. He let Anthony withdraw. If that was the way to save their friendship, then he’d gladly take it.

He’d rather have a distant Anthony than no Anthony at all.

*   *   *

Ian lived for Thursday sometimes.

“Now that our food is complete, mostly, what would you rate this meal?”

Anthony thought for a second. “Three evil burritos out of five.”

Ian nodded. “Well, see you guys next week.”

“Bye.”

“Bitch.”

Ian turned off the camera.

He and Anthony looked at each other for a split second. Anthony was definitely hiding something. If he just stayed a little longer, Ian thought he could pinpoint it, figure out what was causing this huge rift between them—

Anthony stood up. “I’ll be in my room,” he said, and that was it.

That was all he got.

*   *   *

They reconciled a little, if there had ever been something to reconcile about. It felt like there had. Anthony came out of his shell a bit more every day from then on. Soon, Ian was starting to feel like himself again.

Anthony was still short with him, still retreated into himself, but he was gaining that metaphorical color back in his cheeks.

Damn, he was poetic lately. That had to be stopped.

Ian just had to be patient. Sooner or later, something would happen.

*   *   *

Dinner was quiet.

Ian picked moodily at his food. Across the table, Anthony was doing the same—more lost in thought than upset, Ian thought. But he was paler than usual, and his hands were shaking the tiniest bit. Sick? Panic attack? Ian hoped not.

“You alright?” Ian said, keeping his eyes lowered.

Anthony didn’t answer for a moment, and when he did, his “yes” wasn’t very convincing. He cleared his throat. “How’s your food?”

Ian hoped he was okay. “Fine. How’s yours?”

“S’okay.”

They ate.

“So, any new ideas?” Ian asked.

“Not really. A few.”

“Wanna tell me?”

“Maybe later.”

They ate some more.

“The movie’s doing good. I checked today. Not amazing but, y’know, not bad.”

Anthony put his fork down. “Ian, I’m in love with you.”

Ian stopped mid-chew.

Anthony crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. I can’t fake it any more. I’m in love with you.”

Ian’s heart was rapidly increasing its speed, leaving him lightheaded. “You can’t just say things like that, Anthony.”

“I can if I mean it.” Anthony wasn’t shying away from eye contact now. He held Ian’s gaze easily. Certainly. “It’s not a phase. I’m not curious. I know what I want. I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

“Anthony, don’t—”

Anthony laughed disbelievingly. “No, listen to me. I’ve thought about it too much. If you want me to move out, I get it. I shouldn’t have told you. But I can’t pretend, Ian. I’m not you, I can’t just…stuff these things down and hide them forever. I fucking love you.”

Ian was absolutely speechless.

Anthony plowed on. “Okay. Okay. I know you…you don’t feel the same way. You told me that, and it’s really shitty of me to be forcing this on you. But I _can’t_. God, Ian, I didn’t realize what the hell was going on until lately. I’m not going to hide it any more.”

Anthony was looking at him, flushed instead of pale, waiting.

Ian opened his mouth and closed it.

The fight drained out of Anthony, bit by bit. He looked down at his shoes. “Should I start packing?” he said quietly.

“No!” was forced out of Ian. Anthony jumped at the shout. “No. I…it’s a lot to take in.” Ian could feel his pulse pounding so fast it was about to burst through his skin. He was positive the entire world had gone crazy. Or maybe he’d finally lost it and this was a hallucination. There was no way this was happening. At all.

Anthony was biting his lip now. Hoooollly hell.

“You’ve never been with a guy before,” Ian pointed out, grasping at straws.

“So?”

“So how can you be sure that you’re actually—”

“You said it before: bisexuality exists. And I know when I’m attracted to someone.”

“You just said that you didn’t realize what was going on.”

“I didn’t _want_ to believe it. I’m done avoiding it.”

Ian wanted to laugh. Ian wanted to cry. Ian wanted to haul Anthony over the table.

“Ian?” Anthony said desperately.

“Can…” Ian didn’t know what to believe anymore. “Can I sleep on this?”

Anthony didn’t look happy at that, but he nodded.

Ian hesitated. “Look…I’m not…totally against it,” he half-lied, he was definitely all for it, all the way.

Anthony looked up. There was something there that had been missing all week. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll…I'll see you in the morning.”

Ian made his escape to his room before he did something stupid.

He leaned against the door, head tilted back, and closed his eyes against the overwhelming onslaught of what just happened.

Fucking hell. This was amazing and terrible at the same time. Terrible because this would jeopardize everything. But mostly amazing.

Anthony was in love with him. His brain played that on repeat. You didn't say that if you were just confused.

He was terrified he was going to fuck everything up. He could call the whole thing off and stay where they were.

But why would he do that?

Ian brought his fist to his mouth to hide his smile.

In the morning. In the morning, he’d go for it. Anthony’s head would be clearer and he would have the chance to take it back. If he did, so be it. If he didn’t, well.

Their lives were going to be very different.


	11. Giving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian reaps benefits he doesn't think he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, seriously.  
> Thank you so, SO much to everyone who left kudos/commented/bookmarked/anything else throughout this story! You guys really gave me the motivation to write, and this story probably wouldn't have gotten this far without you. Seriously, thank you. I'm actually amazed by the response this thing got.  
> Without further ado, here's the last chapter. Since we hit 100 kudos (which is incredible!), keep your eyes peeled for a bonus chapter ;) Enjoy, guys!

Ian barely got any sleep that night, tossing and turning, not knowing what tomorrow was going to bring. It could go any number of ways.

The morning came slowly, the sun peeking around the curtains onto his feet. He checked his phone. 6 AM. Earliest he’d been up since high school.

He wasn’t tired in the least, his mind thrumming with anticipation. Sliding out of bed, he trudged into the bathroom. Ian stared at his reflection. Pale, scruffy, dark circles under his eyes. He wasn’t exactly the hottest he’d ever been.

Ah, well. Anthony had seen worse.

He took a deep breath, felt a bit silly for doing it, and grabbed his toothbrush and scrubbed vigorously. Once his mouth didn’t taste like ass, he shaved and put on deodorant. Didn’t want to smell like ass, either.

Ian crept out into the hallway, pulse racing.

He was actually doing this.

There was no one in the kitchen, but there was sound coming from the living room. TV left on, most likely. Ian made his way into the living room in question. He wasn’t expecting Anthony to be up yet.

He was.

Anthony was sitting on the couch, watching TV. He turned it off and stood up when Ian walked in. They stared at each other.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” said Ian.

The conversation ended there.

Anthony seemed slightly petrified, but was standing his ground. Right when he looked like he was about to speak, Ian beat him to it.

“Can you explain what happened last night?”

“I knew you were going to ask that,” Anthony said after a moment. “Not really, no. I meant every word, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“So you’re bisexual. And in love with me.”

Anthony searched his face, but didn’t look reassured. “Yeah. I thought it was just a phase, but it never went away.” Pause. “Yes, I’m in love with you.”

He hadn’t taken it back.

Ian could do whatever he wanted now.

He took one step toward Anthony, who resembled a bird under the gaze of a snake by this point. “How long have you been in love with me?” The question wasn’t for his ego; he wanted to know. Needed to know. It was only a _little_ bit for his ego.

“A while.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know, months?”

Hold up. “It took you _months_ to figure it out?”

“No. I always knew—my brain just didn’t want to acknowledge it. But when you told me you were gay, I guess…it started to make sense.” Anthony blushed and looked down at the carpet. “I always thought you were hot, though.”

Ian fought not to pass out.

He stepped closer. Step. Step. Step. Stop in front of Anthony, whose face was a cocktail of emotions.

“I may have lied,” he said.

“…What?”

Ian moved another inch, and out of nowhere they were too close. “When I said I wasn’t attracted to you. I am.”

Anthony blinked. “Holy fuck, are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t joke about that.”

He laughed sardonically. “All this time we could’ve—”

“I know, man, I know.”

Anthony looked at him suddenly, as if just getting it. “So you’re on board with this?”

“I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. So if that’s what you want…then we probably shouldn’t do it.”

Anthony shook his head. “No. No, I want more than that.”

“You’re sure?” Ian murmured.

Anthony raised his hand in what seemed like slow motion, shakily brushing his thumb over Ian’s cheek. “I’m sure.”

Ian exhaled and closed his eyes.

“Okay.”

The first press of Anthony’s lips against his own was so light, so tentative, he wasn’t sure it had even happened. Then it came again, and again, until it fully registered that Anthony was kissing him. His mouth was just as hot and pliant as Ian remembered, but this time wasn’t rushed and angry.

This time was like he meant it.

Ian kissed back gently, afraid that any movement would scare him off. But Anthony wasn’t backing down, running off, or anything that Ian had been sure would happen. He stayed. And kissed harder.

Ian retaliated by sliding his fingers through his hair and pulling him in deeper. Anthony moaned in the back of his throat, arms wrapping around Ian’s midsection. Ian couldn’t get close enough.

Anthony kissed him like a plane was going down, tongue nearly down his throat by the time Ian had to break away to breathe. Anthony nuzzled at his neck while he caught his breath, a mockery of their first encounter, mouthing softly at his jaw.

“Fuck,” Ian said.

“That’s the idea.”

Ian laughed breathlessly. “You’re not nervous at all?”

“Why would I be?” Anthony hummed, still kissing his neck.

“First time with a dude?”

He shrugged. “Can’t be that difficult. Besides, I’ve been wanting this for a while, and it’s just you and me.” He pulled away, biting his lip playfully and throwing Ian some serious bedroom eyes. Ian was captivated in under a second. He stood, staring, as Anthony made to walk down the hall. When Ian didn’t follow, he turned around.

“Come on, then,” he said. “What are you waiting for?”

Ian really didn’t know.

*   *   *

Anthony sighed in content, arm flopped haphazardly over Ian’s bare chest.

“Yeah,” he purred. “We’re definitely doing this again.”

Ian grinned.

He didn’t know how, but somehow he’d gotten here, in bed with Anthony, naked and satiated. “So what now?” he murmured. “Besides doing this again.”

“Hell if I know. We’ll figure it out.”

It was true. In the aftermath of a glorious orgasm (especially one with Anthony), every problem he had seemed less intimidating. No matter what life threw at him, Ian was sure he could handle it. Him plus Anthony. They could take it.

For now, they’d keep this new, insane thing on the down low. Maybe one day they’d be ready to tell everyone, but today was not that day. They’d just begun, after all. They had all the time in the world.

As Ian was dozing in and out, he heard Anthony say under his breath, “Love you, Ian.”

Ian smiled. “Love you, too.”

Anthony held him tighter.

Yeah.

Ian could live with this.


	12. BONUS: The Ol' Switcheroo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony's just starting to get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an extra chapter that isn't necessary for the story, but I thought would be a good addition. It's rather short, but I don't really want to change anything. It's kind of a thank you for all the people who liked the story. You guys rock!

**TWO MONTHS EARLIER...**

What the fuck was going on?

Ever since this morning, things had been weird. He’d spilled his coffee, he’d lost his keys, and he’d found this weird text on his phone that he hoped wasn’t from a fan that had gotten his number. On the way to the shoot, he and Ian nearly rear-ended a guy. He’d been off all morning.

Right now, Ian was laughing at one of his dumb jokes, just a normal thing on a normal day, and Anthony’s heart was beating at twice its regular speed.

Anthony had thought it was a panic attack at first, which had really sucked. But his heart wasn’t pounding in fear or anxiety, and there was no crushing weight on his chest like usual. His mind was clear, and his pulse was racing.

Ian was still grinning when he leaned over and punched his shoulder playfully. It hurt a bit, but Anthony felt his heart give a little flutter.

What the hell, man?

“Alright, let’s finish this, dude,” Ian said, gaze warm and friendly. Anthony smiled back weakly and wondered why Ian’s face seemed like the most fascinating thing on Earth.

All throughout the shoot, Anthony couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Ian. It was like some sort of magnetic force. Anthony was drawn to him like a moth to one of those electric porch lights. Bzzzt. Dead. DEAD.

Shocked like that.

And every time Ian came near him, it only got worse. It felt like this day was lasting forever. Anthony just wanted to go back to bed and sleep it all away.

When they were done filming, Ian held up his hand for their customary high five. “That was really good, man,” he said, beaming like the sun. Anthony high-fived him back, pretending like he wasn’t having a major internal freakout.

“Can we get Thai tonight?” Ian added. “I’ve been craving some all day.”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Aren’t you two cozy?” teased one of the crew members.

Anthony beat back the weird feeling that sat in his chest. It didn’t feel like an anxiety attack, but you could never be too sure.

Ian rolled his eyes. “You’re just jealous.” He slung his arm around Anthony’s shoulders, tugging him closer in mock affection.

“True,” the guy said, grinning and turning back to his work.

_Never_ be too sure.

“So, you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s hit the road.”

Anthony got out of that room as fast as he could.

On the drive home, he thought about it while Ian was distracted by driving and the radio. It was like he knew what was wrong, but had forgotten or something. That happened sometimes. He got anxious for no real reason. This was probably the same kind of deal.

After dinner, he hunkered down in his room, pacing around. _Was_ it a health problem? Should he go see a doctor? He didn’t feel any different. In fact, he felt great.

This only happened when he was around Ian. It obviously wasn’t interest—Ian was a dude. He wasn’t attracted to dudes. Mostly. Okay, sometimes, but he wasn’t _serious_ about it. Maybe something about Ian gave him anxiety.

Whatever. If it became a serious issue, then he'd worry about it. But it was practically nothing. The feeling was already almost gone.

Anthony decided to just leave it alone.


End file.
